Man Man:Life Fantastic

8.5 /10 dropps

As long-renewed tenants of Philadelphia, the “City of Brotherly Love”, Man Man has had Ben Franklin’s bust, lionized Philly cheese steaks, and the rim-cracked Liberty Bell all at their fingertips’ disposal. It appears as if they have inherited Franklin’s regality, mastered the savory, elbow grease needed to produce a piquant Philly cheese steak, and rang true the liberating essence of the Liberty Bell that takes the form of Beckettian purging. Throughout the last eight years, Man Man has enamored listeners with their hyper-eccentric experimentation with sailor-like sing-along’s, cornucopias of Waitsian zaniness, and vaudeville live performances that will knock one clear into next week from all the ornate knick-knacks plastered across the stage while jovial energy exudes out of all the multi-instrumentalists that comprise the band.

The scene is Omaha, Nebraska, USA – home to the sappy-slicker label, Saddle Creek. Mike Mogis (from Bright Eyes/Monsters of Folk) has been vetted by Man Man to be the first musical producer to ever work with the band in a record studio setting and Honus Honus seems to still be rocking his Lord Buckley-status mustache. Brace yourself: because the doggerel of Honus Honus’ narratives coupled with Man Man’s well-composed entropy on Life Fantastic is quite the canorous maelstrom. “Knuckle Down” picturesquely captures the Blue Turban-Six Demon Bag spirit of Man Man – good news for the veterans. The first fifteen seconds elapses with a catchy, clarinet melody while monosyllabic tom-hits lead into a classic Man Man carnival-style stroll, which then explode into the layers of xylophone, horns, and their typical frenetic frenzy. Honus Honus, being the maestro with tricks up his sleeves that he is, quips the first lines of the album as, “All my branches break / when you go and tell me / your body can’t take not to be lonely / I’m racing through the dark / a headless Saint Bernard / to cauterize the scars / that line your dirty heart.” As a harbinger, confrontations with heartaches (a staple), the passing away of close friends, and the oh-so-human confusion that comes along with each, are all issues that are intertwined in the poetry of the album. So without further adieu, Life Fantastic volunteers to be our fearless tour guide by now taking us on a mini escapade through an island-reef jam in “Piranhas Club”, then consecutively visits a Barcelona-Americana serenade in “Steak Knives”, and returns back home with the ominously crafty “Dark Arts.”

“Piranhas Club” has a Caribbean, castanets vibe – it’s unlike any style they’ve ever budgeted into their catalog; and if you’re flummoxed by this cabana-burnt flare, give it a few listens in the natural cadence of the record and you might be coaxed otherwise. The slow plucking of a Spanish chord progression in “Steak Knives” continues the cultural momentum. This track is minimalistic in nature for the outfit. The first semester of the song consists of Honus Honus’ intonational voice bellowing, “Are you my pet? / Or did I have to work so hard / for nothing? / I’ve been here before / I’ll be here again / My blood runs quick like ink from a squid.” The second semester (chorus) is greeted with stringed instruments and the whole quintet, yet still keeps a sotto voce tone of voice compared to their 75-inch voices that Pow Pow, Chang Wang, T. Moth, and Critter Cat charmingly deliver. The whole gang’s got such longitudinal and latitudinal talent it’s unreal. The third semester déjà vus the first and decompresses with: “And everybody says that I’m a fool / for wanting you / and everybody says that I’m a fool / for loving you / and everybody says that I’m a fool / for you.” Just when “Steak Knives” gets you feeling sappy and sedated, an image from the lyrics in “Dark Arts” flies at you with an upbeat tempo like an albatross flapping its wings as if they were on fire. And for those who are elated by Man Man’s shriek-like snippets, they sneak in some shrieks on the latter half of the track.

It’s got to be an arduous task to reach ennui when listening to Man Man. The diversity portrayed throughout all their albums is enthralling, and the hobbyhorse playfulness only heats up in “Haute Tropique” and onward. Part of the team’s Éclat is personified through their eclectic use of unconventional instruments that they’ve used in the past such as: a marimba, euphonium, sousaphone, melodica, kazoos, throwing metal spoons in a metal bowl, and other arbitrary playhouse utensils. The confession, “Shameless”, is easily one of the catchier chanteys on the record powered by their diligent dynamic. The forty-seven second intermission, “Eel Bros” conveys a conga-electro presence, which struggles for significance since it seems to  be a filler track. Regardless, the baroque instrumentation sustains itself until the title track, “Life Fantastic”, which moderately embodies the zeitgeist of the album by staking up a signpost that shouts, “EXPECT SOME REFINED CHANGES, BUT WE’RE STILL MAN MAN.”  Another tidbit as to why “Life Fantastic” thematically fits for the title track is the ironic sanguinity it emits. The album is not a message in a bottle about how everything is all hunky-dory (Bowie anyone?) – rather quite the contrary. The album is an aggregate – an amalgam – of lamentations, observations, and the process of what it’s like to “Learn how to drift away”, as “Oh, Lea Brea” puts it. And to cauterize, the fact that we live in an age where people we want to trust tell (and sell) us that everything is going to be okay, when really the reality of life is more augmented, frenetic, and complex than just a wave of a hand, makes Life Fantastic as relevant a record as any – making Man Man an fantastic emissary.

-Zach Frimmel